OH MY GOD HE'S SO HOT!!"

"I LOVE HIM SO MUCH I WANT TO MARRY HIM!!!"

"AAAAHHHHHH SO BEAUTIFUL! MY EYES ARE BLINDED!!!"

"I WANT TO GIVE BIRTH TO HIS CHILDREN!"

Bridget looked past the horde of mindless screaming females at the object of their affections. At the centre of crowd, a lone chicken with its feathers combed back sharply hops out from the black Mercedez and saunters towards the school entrance. What the actual fuck.

The rooster looked quite pleased with himself as he made his way past his many admirers. His sprightly feathers ruffled proudly, as though saying: "That's right, praise me more. Be grateful that I have graced you with my godly presence."

Before she was able to stop it, a snort escaped from Bridget. Her eyes were filled with light mockery at the chicken's haughty attitude. Unfortunately, this did not go unnoticed by the people gathered around and before she realized, she was surrounded.

One of the girls ruthlessly shoved her with both hands and spoke in a nasally voice. "Who do you think you are, huh? How dare you act so arrogantly before our Prince?"

The others beside her chimed in agreement.

"Yeah, you're so ugly and yet you act like you're all that."

"You think the Prince will notice you just because you act cocky? In your dreams!"

"You're just a slut. You don't even deserve to be seen."

"Gross."

She somehow ended up being the centre of attention and the receiver of baseless insults that kept on escalating in viciousness. What did she even do? She merely snorted at a chicken so why are all of these people so offended?

Suddenly, the crowd parted. The majestic rooster walked down the aisle created from the absence of human bodies like Moses when God parted the Red Sea. His pennate body exuded the aura of a king and his brightly coloured plumage had a glossy sheen that reflect the sun's rays. Anyone who witnesses the sight of this glorious chicken would feel inclined to bow down and worship its birdness.

"I claim this one as mine. The rest of you scram." A domineering voice cut through the stagnating atmosphere.

Bridget gawked at the chicken with wide eyes. It spoke. The chicken spoke. It actually spoke. How could a chicken speak? What was going on? It can't be that this was a magic chicken. It's coming towards her. Why is the chicken walking towards her?

In the midst of her panic attack, she failed to notice the chicken growing rapidly in size as it neared. The chicken took one look at the stupefied statue of the girl in front of it before scooping her up in a princess carry and marching off regally, leaving a crowd of gobsmacked spectators behind.